


A Good Year

by glim



Series: happy steve bingo fills [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, First Dates, Fluff, Happy Steve Bingo, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 02:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: Okay, Rogers, Steve thinks. Slow down. Cute, smart guy with a great smile? That you just met fifteen minutes ago? Slow down.





	A Good Year

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Free Space square on my Happy Steve Bingo Card to fill the prompt 'Teachers or Substitutes.'

The high school parking lot is nearly empty when Steve pulls in. Only a few cars are scattered throughout the lot and no pedestrians mill about the building. Which makes sense given that it's a just past eight o'clock at the beginning of August. No students, only a few teachers, and maybe even few administrators. 

Steve skims the lot again and watches the sum shimmer off the surface of the asphalt. He's a half hour early for his workshop, but the idea of sitting in his car and finishing his coffee while the summer day heats up around him isn't the most inviting. Surveying the building once more, Steve takes a couple more sips of his coffee, decides one of three entrances to the building has to be the main one, and hauls himself out of his car. 

As long as he doesn't spend the next thirty minutes looking for his workshop, he's good. Somewhere in his text messages there's a set of direction from Bucky, who was the one to persuade him to do the tech workshop at the high school. 

And who has not only abandoned him to attend this workshop on his own, but also proved to be completely unhelpful by telling Steve to go in the main door. 

"Traitor," Steve mutters and doesn't bother texting Bucky. He's out on field maneuvers with his JROTC kids and probably won't even see Steve's texts until he gets home this evening. 

The door he approaches has a sign with an arrow directing him to the main office and Steve figures that's good enough. He's an educated person who can find his way around a school that's not the one he teaches in. An educated person who really, really needs to finish his coffee before he sits through three hours of how to integrate technology into his classroom. 

His ID card doesn't let him into the building, and Steve eyes the call button for a couple seconds before he hears footsteps behind him. 

"Need to get in?" Another teacher, one who must teach at the high school, brandishes his ID card. He glances at Steve's and then gives a nod. "Yeah, I think that only gets you into your own school and the board of ed building." 

"It was worth a try." Steve steps aside and tucks his travel mug against his chest. "I'm here for the tech workshop. I think I'm a little early." 

"Ambitiously over early. But, that's cool. Me, too." The man returns the smile and uses his own card to let them both into the building. "I can walk with you over to the tech lab, if you don't mind stopping by my classroom first." 

The first smile doesn't really hit Steve, he's still too busy fumbling with his own ID lanyard and coffee cup. But the second, god, the second one hits Steve somewhere in the middle of his chest and makes his breath stutter a little bit. Not only is that quite possibly the most charming smile he's ever seen, from quite possibly the most handsome man he's ever met, but it's directed at him, and that direction feels warm and genuine. 

"Sure, that's... that's fine. I've only been here a couple times, and only to a friend's classroom." Steve shifts his messenger bag and switches his coffee cup to his left hand. "Steve Rogers," he says, and offers the other man his hand once they're inside. 

"Sam Wilson. You got a friend who teachers here? Who?" Sam leads Steve by the main office, where he waves to the secretary and says good morning. "I probably know them." 

"Um, Barnes?" Steve's pretty sure nobody at work calls him Bucky, and he doesn't let anyone call him James if he can help it, so the last name's probably best. "He's one of the JROTC teachers." 

"Ah, Barnes, sure. He teaches on the other side of the building so I don't see him too much, but yeah, I know him." Sam stops at another office to say good morning to a couple people, and takes up a folder one of the men at the desk hands him. "This way," he says and nudges Steve past the offices to turn left down a corridor. "You've probably been the other way, if you've been to Barnes's room. Mine's upstairs, history hallway." 

"You're a history teacher?" Steve asks, then feels immediately stupid. "Well, obviously, unless they exiled you there from the math department." 

Sam gives Steve a quick smile this time and laughs, the sound as warm as his smile and just as powerful at making Steve's breath come a little too quick. "Nope, you got it. History and psych. I even got an AP class this year." 

They walk to the end of the quiet corridor, past lockers and newly waxed floors, then upstairs to the second floor. Half a hallway down is Sam's classroom, and he grimaces a little when he unlocks the door to the hot, stuffy room. "I just need a couple books. You good?" he asks when Steve lets out a sigh as he wraps both his hands around his coffee. 

"Yeah, I just.. I don't think I've been to work this early in... well, ever." The air's hot and musty in Sam's classroom, but Sam goes to open a couple windows and Steve's asthma doesn't get a chance to start acting up just yet. Despite the heat, the hot coffee feels amazing at this hour and Steve basks in the feeling of caffeine starting to work it's way through his system, watching Sam make his way around the classroom. 

"It's too early for summer, I feel you." Sam grabs a couple teacher's editions from the shelf by his desk, stacks the books, then adds his laptop to the stack. "What about you? Should I guess?" He gives Steve a closer look, and nods for Steve to head out of his classroom. "You're definitely not a middle school teacher, you look way too calm for that. Third grade?" 

This time, Steve laughs, and tries to ignore the way his skin wants to flush pink at the look Sam gives him. Appraising, and then, almost, approving, when Steve replies, "Close enough. Kindergarten." 

"Better you than me." Sam's still smiling though, and his hand rests gently at the small of Steve's back to lead him down another corridor. "They use iPads and computers in kindergarten?" 

"You bet they do. They use them better than I do, honestly." Steve can feel the flush creeping up his face again and he tries to hide his smile in his cup of coffee. "We were part of a pilot program at the elementary school last year, and they did fantastic. The kids pick stuff up so quickly and they get so excited to learn anything, really." 

Sam smiles at him again and Steve can tell that the flush doesn't even bother fading from his face, and instead spreads to his ears. He gives himself a quick shake, but he can't stop himself from almost basking in the the giddy, warm feeling. Come September, he will have been teaching in the district for a year and Sam is the first person he's met at work who's smiled at him that way. He might even be the first person Steve's ever met who has made him feel the way Sam does when he gives Steve one of his offhand smiles. 

Okay, Rogers, Steve thinks. Slow down. Cute, smart guy with a great smile? That you just met fifteen minutes ago? _Slow down._

It's so nice, though, to meet someone who does smile at Steve that way. 

Not that Steve's given anyone much of a chance. His first year teaching here had been so hectic, he's not even sure he had time for anything but lesson plans and grading and the near constant parade of meetings. Most weeks felt like he was in survival mode, not find a cute new boyfriend and plan fun yet hopefully low-key dates mode. 

And Sam's definitely cute, from his warm smile to his bright eyes. He's got at least six inches on Steve's height, and he looks like he's got good, broad shoulders and strong arms under his check button up shirt. That smile, though, god, and the confident, comfortable way he walks through the hallways. 

"Here we go. Tech room inside the library." They stop outside the double doors, and Sam waits for Steve to finish off his coffee and get rid of the cup before they go inside. "It'll be air conditioned, so it's definitely better than most of the other classrooms." 

Sam sets his things down at a desktop next to Steve and gives a small, brief smile of approval when Steve sits down. Because today's workshop group is already small, they don't break down into even smaller groups by grade level, which is fine by Steve, as it means he gets to work alongside Sam the whole time. It also means he gets to savor that small, giddy feeling each time Sam glances at him, or touches Steve's arm to get his attention when he's trying to work through some snag in Google Classroom. 

Even though most of Steve's knowledge of high school history comes from taking high school history, he helps Sam set up his online classroom and upload a few assignments. He's not actually sure how much help Sam needs, given how organized his files are and how he already has the first few weeks of the fall term planned out. However, he's pretty sure Sam doesn't mind how Steve leans across the keyboard, or how their hands brush against each other while they work. 

The last of the three hours, the one where he gets to work with Sam quietly and independently, goes by the most quickly. Before Steve knows it, it's time to pack up his stuff and leave. He helps Sam with his things first, re-stacking the books and settling Sam's tablet atop them for him. 

As they stand up, Sam catches Steve's eye. "Do you need me to walk you out? Just so you don't get lost." 

"I won't get lost." Steve hands Sam his textbooks. "I have a good sense of direction." 

"Yeah? You looked like a little confused this morning, then like the door betrayed you by not opening." Sam nudges Steve out of the tech lab and into the library proper. "Swing a left out of the door, and we can head to the parking lot. Then, if you turn left left out of the lot, you can head toward Main Street." 

They share a quiet moment inside for a moment, then, as soon as they walk outside, Steve stops. "Wait a minute. This is a different main entrance. How many do you people need?" 

"Alright, Mr. Good Sense of Direction. You're parked right there." Sam points ahead and to his left. "And I'm a couple cars down. You need to follow me to get out?" 

"I can find my way. But if it makes you feel better--" 

"Yeah, no, just getting to walk you to your car is good enough." Sam grins at Steve and touches him on the arm as they approach Steve's small blue car. The look on his face tells Steve he's not actually kidding, he really does want to walk Steve to his car and chat as they walk in the hot summer sun. "If you come early again tomorrow, you can drink your coffee in my classroom." 

"Oh, that's... thanks. Yeah, I'd like that." Steve leans against his car and nods. "I can pick something up for you? Are you a coffee person?"

Sam shrugs. "Sometimes. Large iced coffee, no sugar, a lot of milk. If you're offering." 

"I definitely am." 

Sam thanks him, and maybe they take a little too long to say goodbye, because Steve can feel his skin starting to get a little too much of the noontime sun before he unlocks his car and dumps his bag in the back seat.

*

Steve gets up a little earlier than he intended to the next day, finds a shirt that makes him look more like a teacher and less like a college student, and stops at Starbucks on his way to the high school. It's not until he gets to the parking lot again that he starts to feel nervous, like maybe this is stupid, that Sam doesn't really want to see him this early in the morning.

Okay, no, nobody asks for this much iced coffee if they don't really want it, Steve decides, and makes his way from his car to Sam's classroom. When he knocks on the door, Sam looks up, smiles, and nods for Steve to come in. 

"Steve, hey... You really did do the coffee run. Thanks." 

"Large iced coffee, heaps of milk, not at all sweet." Steve places the cup on Sam's desk along with a few napkins, and smiles when Sam gives him a grateful look. 

"You are super early this morning." Sam leans back in his chair, looking a little tired, but happy. "Is it even eight-thirty? I'm doing syllabi, if you want to just hang out..." 

"I have some stuff to read. No, I'm okay," Steve says when Sam frowns at how he sits in one of the student desks. "I'm pretty comfortable at this desk. Now, the ones in my classroom, not so much." 

"As long as you're alright. You can grab my co-teacher's desk if you need it, though." Sam turns back to his computer to alternate between typing and drinking his coffee while Steve reads on his tablet. 

The morning is cool and quiet, Sam has music on in the background, and with the lights off, the sun is a mellow gold that falls through the classroom windows. Steve pauses about ten minutes into his coffee and reading and finds himself smiling at how perfect the morning feels.

*

Day three of the workshop passes a lot like the first two: a powerpoint presentation on tech in the classroom, some time to check a few new tools with the staff running the workshop, and then some time to work independently. Steve brings Sam an iced coffee again, and gets to spend a half hour in Sam's classroom, listening to the muted, tinny sound of music from Sam's desktop computer as he works and Steve reads.

Three hours later, Steve's just about to ask Sam for his number. He's hovering between 'we could figure this classroom tech thing out together' and 'we should hang out and talk about something other than work.' Both seem viable reasons to ask for somebody's number, he figures, though he's also pretty sure he's not exactly subtle about how much he's enjoyed hanging out with Sam during the past three days. 

"You should let me make it up to you. The coffee and company these past two mornings." Sam rests his hand on Steve's arm as they walk out of the library. 

"You don't need to do that. It's only coffee, and it was nice to come in early before the workshop." Steve takes in a careful breath before leaning into the warm touch of Sam's hand on his arm. He can do this; he can let himself want the attention and affection Sam offers. "It was nice to spend time with you." 

"Well, give me your number anyway. If you wanted to do a thing. A lunch thing, or whatever. Maybe a drinks thing." 

"Okay, that's not fair. You didn't even give me a chance. I swear I spent the last thirty minutes figuring out how to get your number." 

When Sam laughs, the sound rings through the long, empty corridor and Steve feels his stomach swoop. He wants to look offended, and maybe even annoyed, but all he can do is smile. 

"Too slow, Rogers, too slow." Sam bumps his elbow against Steve's as they walk. Once they get to the door, he pauses. "Hey. If you're interested in lunch?" He ducks his head, not altogether shy, but endearing. "I know a place."

*

"I bet your classroom's already decorated. And everything's laminated? Your whole classroom is laminated and then decorated." Sam steals a chip off Steve's plate when Steve's too busy looking indignant to notice.

"No. Not really. I mean, the bulletin board's done, and... hey! You have your own." Steve tries to nudge Sam's fingers away from his plate, but just ends up tangling his own fingers with Sam's and laughing. "Do mine taste better?"

"Maybe they do..." Sam replies, drawing out the words long and low, making the reply sound a lot less innocent than Steve's question had been. 

And, oh _god_ , Steve feels his cheeks get warm in that way he knows means he's blushing. It's not so much what Sam said, but how he said it, and the way he doesn't quite smile at Steve, but looks at him with a brightness in his eyes. His fingers brush against Steve's again when Steve reaches for a potato chip, and he smiles for real at the way Steve steals the chip back from him. 

"Well," Steve says, "your classroom, on the other hand, has that naked cinder block thing down pat. I love that minimalist approach to decoration." 

"I got some posters. You'll see. And a couple maps. I had those cinder blocks repainted special this summer, too." Sam draws back away from Steve, just a couple inches, to attack the second half of his turkey sandwich. 

Which gives Steve a chance to drink some iced tea and convince himself the blushing-giddy-smile thing is probably not the key to success in the adult dating world. Not that he really has any idea what the key to success is, but given his past few years of singledom, that probably isn't it. 

He must do something right, though, because by the end of lunch, he has Sam's phone number, plans to meet again next week, and the lingering warmth of Sam's hand in his as they walked out of Delmonico's sandwich shop.

*

"Did you manage to find the way into the building without a map?"

Sprawled on Bucky's couch, Steve watches as his best friend sits down to get out of his boots. He's still in his fatigues and looks hot, tired, and grateful for the pizza Steve brought by for dinner.

"I did, no thanks to you, traitor. I only signed up for this week's workshop because you were going, too."

Bucky shrugs and lets out a sigh. "That's not even half-true. Anyway, Rhodes had that family event going on, I couldn't say no when he asked me to take over. Somebody has to get those cadets in order and ready for the year."

Before Bucky can, Steve reaches to get himself a piece of pizza and gets himself more comfortable on the sofa. "Are your cadets all trained?" 

"They don't look bad, though I have a feeling I have my work cut out for me this year. We still have two more days, though." Bucky gets his own slice of pizza and gives Steve a long, narrow-eyed look. "You're way too happy for somebody who went into work during the summer. Did you laminate the alphabet or something? Cover your classroom in polka dot primary colors?" 

"Oh my god. You're _all_ terrible people at that place. You have a hundred entrances into the building, too." Steve saves his indignant face for when Bucky actually looks at him. 

"Huh. Who's the 'you'? Who'd you meet that's got you all excited?" He stuffs half the slice of pizza into his mouth and rests his head against the back of the sofa. 

"I'm not excited. I'm... eating pizza with my best friend. That's all." Steve burrows down into the couch cushions and tries to avoid Bucky's scrutiny. He eventually gives the pizza more attention than Steve, and after two slices each and half a bottle of soda, Steve clears his throat. "So. Sam Wilson--" 

"I knew it. I leave you alone for a couple days and you put the moves on the hot history teacher and track coach." Bucky points at Steve with the piece of pizza in his hands and nods. "I know that look you get in your eye when you find a guy." 

" _Terrible people_ ," Steve repeats, and steals his next slice of pizza from Bucky's hands.

*

"Okay." Steve says, out of breath as he finishes their second lap around the park, "Bucky said track coach, but I wasn't expecting that much of a workout on a date..."

"You can't keep up?" Sam asks, but there's a lightness in his voice and he turns to smile as soon as Steve's shoulder brushes his. "No, you're good. You run a lot?" 

Steve shrugs. "A few times a week, when I can. I get keyed up and stress too much when I don't exercise. It's been good for my asthma, too, finding a pace and routine that works for me." 

"It's good for a lot of things. Definitely the stress. Especially around report cards and parent-teacher conferences." Sam stops to drink from his water bottle, then to wipe the sweat from his face with the hem of his t-shirt. "Exam time's pretty rough, too." 

Which is kind of unfair of him, what with how Steve's already out of breath and not quite ready to see exactly in how good of shape Sam is. The answer: really, really good shape, from the quick glimpse of his abs that Steve gets. 

"Yeah, at least I don't have to worry about exams. Now, parents..." Steve forces his breathing to even out, also not ready to have to pull his inhaler out on a second date, and drinks some of his own water. 

When Sam slows his walk down, Steve matches his pace to Sam's, and drops down next to Sam in a shady spot at the edge of the park. It's early, not quite seven-thirty in the morning, but the air already has that warmth hovering around the edges of the morning humidity, promising another hot summer afternoon. 

Steve presses his shoulder to Sam's after they sit, and feels his stomach flutter when Sam returns the gesture. He gives Steve a little smile, the bright kind that touches his brown eyes, and makes Steve think they'd sit even closer if they weren't hot and sweaty from the run. Not that Steve would really mind sliding his hand into Sam's or putting an arm around him, pressing his body closer to feel the warmth radiate off Sam's skin. 

"So, running, good. What else relieves the teaching stress for you?" Steve asks, his shoulder still resting close and comfortable against Sam's. "I'm guessing you don't run while you're coaching track." 

"Not usually, and that would not be a relaxing run. I love those kids, but damn, you have to watch them, keep them motivated for two or three hours of practice." Sam takes a long drink from his water bottle and rests it on the ground between his feet. "Music," he says, with a small nod, "I like to walk around record shops and book shops, or go for a drive when I need to get out of my own head." 

"I can appreciate that. At least it's as quiet or as loud as you want it be in the car.

"Usually, quiet," Sam says on a sigh. "Especially, well, you know, those days..." 

The kind of sigh that makes Steve immediately and inexplicably want Sam to rest his head against Steve's shoulder, close enough that Steve can put his arm around Sam and see how their bodies fit together, see if he can easily be the one who can hold him or rub the back of his neck at the close of one of those stressful days. The feeling is so sudden and so whole, and Steve's not quite sure what to do with it aside from fumble with the cap of his water bottle. 

"Come on fingerpainting day to my class. Great noise level." 

Sam presses his shoulder against Steve's and stays really good and close this time. "I'll remember that offer when the AP Psych class complains about their weekly essays." 

Sam is sweet, and funny, and handsome, and Steve is suddenly aware of not only how close they are, but of the summer air around them, and the way his tee shirt still sticks to his back from their run, and then, of the sweet, warm feeling when Sam's hand touches his as he leans in closer to Steve. 

Their first kiss is a soft, quiet press of lips, and Steve knows he's blushing, and that his breath does that little skip in his chest thing before he leans in for the second, deeper kiss. 

This is the guy, Steve thinks, _this_ is the one I want to make smile and keep safe.

*

In the weeks leading up to Labor Day and the start of the school year, Steve takes Sam out to dinner as many times as he can, out for lunch at least twice a week, and finagles Sam into four-dollar movie night three Tuesdays in a row.

"It's important," Steve says, as he unrolls one of the posters Sam just got in the mail for his classroom, "to go out for lunch or on weeknights like normal people do while we can. Also, you made me run about a hundred miles yesterday, I needed sustenance afterwards." 

"Four miles," Sam points out. "And you need to remember to eat breakfast." 

Steve pulls a face. "Coffee is breakfast. I just want to get in as many summer time dates as possible before the fall semester claims us," Steve says. "We have to have something that gets us through to winter break..." 

Sam looks up from the box of books he's unpacking and raises an eyebrow at Steve. "You're already thinking about December?" 

Seated atop one of the student desks in the front row of Sam's classroom, Steve feels a curl of anxiety in his chest. He hadn't really meant to imply that he already thought this was a long-term thing, but... yeah, he kind of did, or at least, he kind of hoped they were headed toward that. 

"I'm a forward thinking kind of guy?" Steve says, though his voice goes a little unsteady when Sam just keeps on looking at him. He tries to hide behind the poster, but can feel Sam's gaze on him, so he rolls it back up and places it aside when he hears Sam approach the desk. 

"You're a forward _worrying_ kind of guy," Sam amends for him. He drops off the empty textbook box by his recycling bin, then comes to stand between Steve's legs. "Anyway, somebody who buys over two thousand reward stickers because he might need 'a few extra' is beyond forward thinking." 

"I'll use those stickers. I have whole reward chart system for them." 

"After you use up the million you already have." 

"They're cute. Just because you're stingy with stuff like that--" 

Sam leans in and kisses Steve before he can continue, then does the one-hundred percent adorable thing where he brushes his nose over Steve's that always make Steve melt. He kisses Sam again, smiling into it when Sam presses a really soft, sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"Hey..." Steve slides his arms around Sam's neck to draw him in closer. 

"Hey, handsome..." Sam nuzzles against him again, and pulls back with a thoughtful expression. "I'm nervous about this fall. My first AP class, online textbooks for history and psych, a lot of my best runners graduated last year." 

"That's a lot on your plate, I know, and if you're not interested in, um, serious relationship stuff..." 

"I'm interested in you," Sam says. "And where we might be in December, sure. And even serious relationship stuff. I just can't let myself worry that far in advance." 

"Okay. So, we think ahead, but ... not that far. I'm not interested in seeing anyone else," Steve says, sudden and honest before he convinces himself not to. "If you're okay with that?"

"I am so okay with that." Sam rests his forehead against Steve's and they stay that way for a few moments. "It's going to be so good, though, having somebody close. Having you close." 

"You can text me in the morning before homeroom. Especially on the first day." Steve brushes his mouth over Sam's lower lip, then presses a kiss over his lips while they're still parted. "No, I'll text you first, I'll get up really early so I can do that." 

"Okay, that's a cute boyfriend thing." Sam sinks into the kiss Steve gives him, his hands settling at Steve's hips, and his mouth opens, warm and slow, to tug Steve in closer. 

"Well," Steve murmurs between kisses, "I think you're the cutest boyfriend I've had. Definitely the smartest. Definitely the cutest," he adds. "I just... I want to do all those good things for you." 

Sam makes a pleased sound, low and sweet in his throat, and pulls Steve into another kiss. The material of his tee shirt is soft under Steve's palms as he rubs Sam's back, and the scent of his skin is already warm and familiar. Steve could sink into that, too, and create a small space between their bodies where they're both safe and secure. For a second, he pulls away to take off his glasses, then leans back in to keep on kissing Sam. When the kissing breaks off into soft, breathless sighs, Steve hugs Sam in really close. 

"Sam, we just had a relationship moment in your classroom. We did that." 

"We definitely did. We'll keep those to a minimum starting next week." Sam reaches up to brush a thumb over Steve's cheekbone. "I thought you wanted to do my bulletin boards." 

"Oh! Oh, I do. Do you have a theme?"

"I have paper, two different color borders, and a bunch of posters. Go wild." 

Steve kisses Sam full on the mouth, and then again, soft and quick. "You're going to love it."

"I'm going to love that it's done," Sam says. He strokes Steve's cheek again, and for a few seconds, they're both quiet and watching each other. "Yeah," he finally says, quiet and a little breathy, "It's going to be a good year." 

That tiny knot of anxiety that had tightened inside Steve's stomach has long since unraveled into a curl of anticipation and affection. He presses his cheek against Sam's hand and closes his eyes, imagining the long school year unfurling before them, and turns to nuzzle a kiss against the palm of Sam's hand. 

"A really good year," Steve agrees.


End file.
